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by usa123



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Team, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usa123/pseuds/usa123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured Loser arrives at an unlikely place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just another two-shot I've had on my hard drive for years. Hope you enjoy!

He didn’t know where he was, had no idea where he was going.  All he knew was that his body hurt and he didn’t know why.

His head throbbed and he couldn’t make sense of the printed letters on large green rectangles letting him know where he was.  His phone and wallet were gone so he couldn’t call Clay or any of the other guys and have them pick him up, not that he knew where he was anyway…wait, he’d already thought that.

He winced as the act of thinking sent shards of pain through his skull.  He wrapped his arm around his aching abdomen and stumbled along a few more blocks, focusing so intently on putting one foot in front of the other that he wasn’t even sure in which direction he was travelling.  But it didn’t matter—as long as it was away from…wherever he had been.

He didn’t even realize that he was walking up stairs and had rung a doorbell until it was too late.  Adrenaline raced through his system as he heard the soft clicking of a shotgun’s safety and allowed him to grasp onto a coherent thought for a split second.  Granted, it was mostly filled with panic but it was followed by a lethargic suggestion that he should probably move out of the way.

Then he heard a harsh, but feminine, “Who’s there?”...and thought he recognized the voice.

In a brief moment of clarity, he glanced at the house number nailed on a diagonal next to the door, the last digit hanging slightly crooked, and swore under his breath.

He needed to get out of there.

He whirled around, grabbing onto a nearby porch post with one arm as the world spun and he nearly toppled over.

“Uhhh…no one.  S’rry….pizza deliv’ry…wrong house,” he barked gruffly, so the woman wouldn’t recognize his voice.

“Jake?” the voice asked apprehensively.

“No,” Jensen responded, his voice even deeper, as he valiantly tried to lower himself down the steps he apparently had had no problem walking up a few moments ago, without injuring himself.

“Jake, stop that!” A porch light switched on and Jensen tucked his head into his shoulder to avoid the harsh rays before stepping into the portion of the stairs that wasn’t well lit.

“’m sorry…gotta go…” he stuttered, walking hurriedly away from the house.

He heard soft footfalls pass him and his sister appeared in front of him, her eyes flashing with concern and her blond hair falling loosely from a bun.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, positioning herself in front of him.  It was a good thing the light was coming from behind him, hiding the swollen bruises he knew he carried on his face.  “You don’t just show up in the middle of the night without calling, then disappear without even coming in.”

“’m sorry Jess.  Can’t explain—now.  R’lly gotta go.” He stepped sideways, swaying slightly as his vision swirled again.

“Jake?” Jessica Jensen questioned, her voice now full of concern.  “Are you drunk?”

Jensen almost laughed.  He would rather have the hangover of all hangovers than be in this situation ever again.

“Yeah,” he lied.  “Drunk.  So drunk, completely wasted.  Seven sheets ta the moon, or whatev’r the sayin’ is.  ‘s why I just need to go t’ my room…and sleep it off.” He brushed past her and began staggering down the decorative stone walkway.  “S’ry Jess.”

“Jake.” His sister grabbed his arm as he went by, trying to get him to stay.  But Jensen, backed by years of special ops training, instinctively turned and swung his wrist behind him, easily dislodging his sister’s grip.  Unfortunately, the side effects of that move were costly:  he lost his balance and was falling sideways before his sister quickly grabbed both his arm and the back of his jacket, pulling him upright.

“No, no, no, no, no.  I think you’re staying here—” She hesitated as she noticed the sticky substance on Jensen’s jacket.  Keeping a firm grip on him with her other hand, she reached back so her hand fell in the porch light.

“You’re bleeding!” she shrieked after recognizing the crusty red substance covering her palm.   “Inside!  Now!”

Jensen shook his head vigorously—he couldn’t.  Couldn’t bring his sister into this, not into the life he led.  He just needed to go, find a phone, steal someone else’s, dial Clay or the team.  Yeah, they’d come take care of him. 

“Can’t.  Gottta…go…” The intensity of his objection was dwindling despite his best efforts.  He was just so tired.

“Jake Jensen, if you don’t get inside this very instant, I will personally destroy that circuit board you have hidden in our guest closet,” she nodded at his look of surprise.  “Yeah, I know you have a box of things from your childhood in our house.  That _is_ the circuit board you built when you were five, right?”

“’u wouldn’t,” Jake gasped.

His sister crossed her arms.  “Try me.”

“I can’t, Jess,” he whined.

“Bull.  Shit.  Get inside.”

Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed his arm, threw it over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist.  “Let’s go soldier.”

He wanted to object, wanted to leave, but he just wouldn’t.  He was too woozy to stand upright by himself and her grip was like solid steel. 

Fine. He’d humor her but the moment he could take two steps without a clip from _Fantastia 2000_ appearing in his vision, he’d be gone.

They walked back into the light and Jensen’s face contorted in pain at the brightness.

“Sorry,” she whispered, nudging open the door with her foot.   “Almost there.”

She gasped as the soft light from the kitchen lit across her brother’s face.

“Jesus, Jake!  What happened?” she asked, taking in his swollen and purple eye sockets, the harsh red line across the bridge of his nose and the two streams of dried blood trailing from his nostrils.  A deep cut on his hairline had been closed at one time, judging by the scabbing, but was now lazily leaking blood.  His lip was split at the corner of his mouth and his glasses were off kilter with one lens marred by a deep crack.  He was pale, almost grey, and his pupils were wide and out of focus.

“Bar,” was all he could manage as he wrapped his right arm around his torso.  It didn’t escape Jessica’s notice that there was a slight hitch to his breathing.

“I told you to stop hitting on the hot girls.  It never turns out well for you in the end,” Jess admonished, in an attempt to keep a grave situation light, as she gently lowered him onto the couch.  He grimaced as his back came into contact with the soft cloth.

“Na-oh…. Mugged.”

Jess’ mouth literally dropped open.  “He. Is going. To die,” she swore vehemently, sprinkling in a few prevalent curse words.

“They,” Jensen coughed, shakily wiping his goatee with the back of his sleeve.

Jessica’s eyes flashed dangerously.  She opened her mouth, hesitated, then breathed out slowly.  “I’m going to get the first aid kit,” she said finally.

“’ess.”  The older Jensen turned around, schooling the anger off her face.  “’ere’s Hannah?”

“It’s almost midnight Jake.  She’s asleep.”

“G’d,” the man leaned his head back, almost content to fall asleep right then and there.

“No sleeping for you though!” his sister ordered as she grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet in the kitchen. Then she walked back into the room, snapping her fingers to keep him awake. “You have a concussion.”

“’ll bet I do,” Jensen slurred in response.

“That would have been funny if I hadn’t just told you that.”  She knelt beside him and pulled a wipe from her kit, dabbing gently at the numerous cuts on his face.

“Oh.”

That was all he said for a long while.  He mostly sat silently, not moving at all except for the occasional wince when she found a particularly sensitive spot.

It wasn’t that this was a normal experience in the Jensen house, but Jake being as smart as he was, had always been placed in the more advanced classes or skipped grades all together, making him the unspoken object of the bully’s attentions.  Jessica had always looked out for him and was very often the one who cleaned him up—despite his protests—and made sure he didn’t have any broken bones.  As she grew older, she discovered her affinity for nursing and had trained to become a trauma nurse.  Until Hannah was born.  She had gone back to the ER for a few years until she realized she was missing out on most of her daughter’s life by working long hours at the hospital.  So she quit her job and applied for the part-time nursing position at the Hannah’s school; the hours were better and she got to take the entire summer off to spend more time with her daughter.  It was a win-win.

Once Jake had joined the army, the lack of constant noise had made the house feel so…empty.  And, right now, him sitting quietly on the couch, not saying a word, was particularly unnerving to his older sister.

“So, Jake,” she tried to strike up a conversation, “we haven’t seen you in a long time.  What have you been up to?”

“Work.”

“Like what?”

“Writing code.”

She glanced up at sky, silently begging for patience.  “Did you get the letter Hannah sent you?”

“Yeah.”

That was all she could take for the moment.  She silently finished wiping the blood off her brother's face and gently palpated his nose, wincing sympathetically as she felt the bone move slightly under his fingers.

“Definitely broken.”

“No…shit,” Jensen deadpanned, his face taught with pain.

She gently placed a butterfly bandage on the bridge of his nose to protect the cut.  “Don’t play with that,” she ordered as she proceeded to examine the large gash on the side of his head.  They might be able to get away without stitches if he could keep it clean and not aggravate it.  Then she scoffed: her brother, not aggravate something.  Yeah right.

“’K,” he complied, leaning back against the soft couch.  Then he sat bolt upright, his eyes wide in terror.

“Your couch.  I’m bleeding…a’lover your couch.”

Momentarily stunned, Jess just stared at her brother.  He could have died in that bar fight and he was worried about her _furniture_?

She grabbed his shoulder and gently pushed him back into the seat.  “I have an eight year old, Jake.  This couch has been through worse.”

“No, no,” Jake shook his head with a grimace.  “’m getting it all dirty.”

Jess gently cupped his chin and turned his head so they were staring eye to eye.  “Jake.  It’s fine.  I can wash the covering.”

“But—”

“Relax.  Now.”  Her face gave no room for argument.

“Okay,” was all he said, the moment of clarity fading away.

There was silence again while Jess taped a pad of gauze to the side of his head.

“Hurrrrts, Jess,” he slurred so quietly she almost missed it.  Jess glanced at her brother in surprise.  He rarely admitted that anything was causing him pain.  Most of the time, he just brushed off an injury, all the while vowing to make the men who had beaten him up pay.

“I know Jake.” She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, silently making the same promise she had heard her brother make all those years ago.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised as she stood.  Then she hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of aspirin and water.  After she was kneeling next to her brother again, she cracked open the aspirin bottle and shook three tablets into her hand.

“Take those.” She waited until he offered his hand before dropping the pills into them, holding the now open bottle of water within reach.

He tilted his head back slightly and swallowed the anti-inflammatories with a large wince before reaching down to cradle his torso yet again.

“What happened to your ribs?” she asked, hoping for a truthful answer in his concussed state.

“Not brok’n,” he replied defensively, shrugging deeper into the plush couch.

“Let me see,” she began, starting to unbutton his unusually nice shirt.

He pulled away half-heartedly.  “No.”

“C’mon Jake.  I guarantee I’ve seen worse.”

He shook his head quickly and immediately regretted it.  While her brother was focusing on staying conscious, she quickly flipped open his shirt, gasping as she saw the harsh purple bruising in the perfect shape of a boot on the side of Jake’s ribs.  There was also more bruising travelling down his side and spreading across his abdomen.

Her anger barely contained, she checked his ribs very tenderly before finally agreeing that none of them were broken.  She continued her inspection by palpating his abdomen and was relieved when she felt no rigidity.

As she was rebuttoning his shirt, though, her eyes landed on the small circular scar on her brother’s upper bicep.

“That looks like a bullet wound,” she stated, fighting hard to keep her voice level.

“Aisha shot me,” he replied drowsily.  Then his eyes flew open.  “Shit…shouldn’t’ve said that.  This…makin’ me loopy.  You didn’t hear—Shouldn’t’ve said…that.  ‘m fine.  Got cleared by medics…and ‘rythin.”

“Aisha?” Jess’ glare was as sharp as steel.

“Don’t…Jess,” he pleaded, fighting even harder to remain conscious.

“But she shot you.”

Jake’s eyelids drooped.  “Was…an accident,” he responded groggily.

“Even worse.”

“’m okay, Jess.  Pl’se let it go.”

 _Absolutely not,_ she thought but didn’t say it out loud. 

“Get some sleep, Jake,” she grabbed a blanket and pillow from the opposite chair and helped her brother lie flat, pulling a blanket over him.

Then she sat in the chair opposite him, grabbing a blanket for herself.

“’re not gonna..watch me sleep…are ya?”

“You have a concussion.  Someone has to wake you up every two hours.”

“Uh huh,” he muttered before sleep claimed him, evening out his ragged breathing.

Jess watched her brother sleep for another ten minutes, her foot twitching anxiously against her other knee and her fingers tapping incessantly against the plush armrest, before she could take no more.  She walked into her room, dug through a small pile of papers in the bottom drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a post-it with ten digits on it.

She dialed the number and held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring once…twice.

“Speak,” a voice demanded gruffly.

“Colonel Clay?”

Silence.

“This is Jessica Jensen.  We need to talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

There it was! A shiny new Ultrabook, just a few feet in front of him.  Solid state drive with enough virtual memory to keep his hacks from stalling out.  Keys so shiny, just _waiting_ for his fingers to dance across them while breaking into various security systems, government agencies, and occasionally, a random Netflix queue so everyone could stay up-to-date on their television shows.

He had just reached out, his hand brushing the cool metal case, when he heard a gruff voice say his name.

Jake frowned up at the sky.  “Not now Clay.”

He looked back at his prized possession, but it was gone. His world slowly, gently faded to a solid blackness as Jensen became aware of the soft cloth beneath his body and the awkward tilt of his head against what he could only assume to be a pillow.

“Jensen!” the voice demanded, more insistently, and he felt a hand gently shake his shoulder.

“Noooo Clay,” the hacker drawled sleepily, waving away the voice. “’z my day off…”

Then he realized where he was, why he was there, and his team leader was in the room.

“Clay!” his eyes flew open and he sat straight up, hissing in pain as the motion aggravated his damaged ribs.  The room was spinning wildly but through the chaos Jensen was able to recognize the salt and pepper hair of the colonel.

“Take it easy Jensen.” He felt Clay’s rough, calloused hand on his shoulder.  “Breathe.”

He nodded wordlessly, focusing on taking a few marginally deep breaths.

“Better.” His glasses were shoved into his hands and, as he slid them up his nose, his vision began to straighten out, revealing Pooch fast asleep in an easy chair in the far corner of the room.  He glanced right without moving his head and saw his sister hovered anxiously behind Clay.

“Wha’?” was all Jake could manage.

“Concussion check,” Clay responded.  “Do you know your name?”

Even through the swelling around his eyes, Jensen’s glare was lethal.

“Just answer the question.”

“Jacob Jensen: the one…the only…the awesome,” he returned flippantly.

The corner of Clay’s mouth turned up slightly.  “Do you know what day it is?”

“Eez not my birthday.”

“Jake!” his sister admonished.

Jensen lifted one shoulder in an “I can’t help it” shrug before rattling off yesterday's date.  Though he was technically wrong, his answer was close enough for Clay, who knew just how disorienting being sick or injured could be.  Their leader then reached out and placed his hand around Jensen’s eye, pulling his eyelids just a little bit farther apart, watching as the hacker’s pupil reacted to the dim lighting.

“Wha’re you doin' here?” Jensen asked.  Clay didn't answer, and instead dragged a finger in front of Jensen's nose.  Jake obediently tracked the motion, left, right, up, and down, without moving his head.  Jake’s reaction wasn’t as fast as Clay would have liked but it wasn’t the worst any of them had suffered.

“Checking on you," Clay finally said.

“How...?”

“Your sister called us.” Clay withdrew his hand and saw Jensen relax noticeably.  “She was worried about you.”

Jensen scowled at Jessica, but before she could reply, Clay quickly asked, "What happened soldier?"

The hacker squirmed uncomfortably.  He knew what would happen if he told Clay the whole story and it wasn’t going to bode well for the men who had attacked him.

“I’m waiting, Jensen,” Clay repeated impatiently.

The injured man glanced anxiously at his sister.  “I’m not leaving, Jake,” she replied to his unspoken question.

“Went to the bar, had a few drinks, played some poker…I got hit over the head as I left,” Jensen recited slowly but without any emotion, as if he was stating the events of someone else’s night. “I tried to fight back…but there were too many of ‘em—”

“Just how many are we talking here?”

Jensen bit his lip.  “Five men.”

His sister’s eyes widened and her jaw worked silently as she fought the urge to incapacitate those who had hurt her brother.

“Would you be able to recognize any of them?”  Clay continued, ignoring the stare-off between the siblings.

Jake looked back at Clay and shrugged.  “Maybe.  One’s blond, all stocky…They knocked m'glasses off—everythin’ was pretty blurry.”

Clay swore under his breath.

“I think...I broke someone’s wrist,” the hacker spoke up.  “The guy holding me.”

“That’s more than we had a minute ago.” Clay pulled out his phone and dialed Aisha.

“They have my phone,” Jensen added sadly.  “And mah wallet.”

“What bar?” he glanced at the injured hacker.

“O’Donnell’s.”

The corporal nodded as his…well, let’s just go with “girlfriend” for simplicity…picked up the line.  “What?”

“O’Donnell’s.  Five guys.  One has a broken wrist.  They have Jensen’s phone.”

“We’re on it.” On the other end of the call, she nodded to Cougar and they set off down the street they had been searching, unable to just sit while Jensen slept.

“Wait!” Jensen tried to push himself off the couch but was held back by his sister.  He had seen too much during his many missions overseas: so much evil, so much greed.  Mostly the team dealt with categorically bad people who deserved everything the team threw at them.  But these guys?  His best bet, they were just some washed-up hoodlums who thought they were hot stuff.  Not that they didn’t deserve to be punished, but ‘regular’ people didn’t deserve the misery the Losers could inflict, no matter how screwed up they were.  

Despite everything that had happened in Bolivia, Jensen still believed the line existed.  And he wasn’t ready to cross it, even though the guys had kicked his ass.  Now that didn’t mean they didn’t deserve a good beating in return—in fact, he owed one of them a broken nose.

“Clay!” The corporal turned and looked at the hacker.   “They’re just…normal…guys.”

There was a moment of silence while Jessica stared in confusion at her brother.  Finally, the CO cocked an eyebrow, silently asking, " _Are you sure?"_

Jensen nodded.

The colonel turned back to his conversation with Aisha.  “Make sure they live.”

She swore colorfully.  “Clay…”

He saw Jensen looking expectantly at him.

“No maiming, either,” Clay continued with a deep sigh.

“You’re cutting my knees out from under me,” Aisha groaned.

“Just do it.”

Colonel snapped his phone closed with great force, the sound rousing Pooch from his sleep. 

“Hey Jensen!” the man called, scrubbing the remnants of slumber out of his eyes.  “How ya feeling?”

“How'd'ya think?” Jensen snapped without any real malice, holding his head in his hands.

“Ha! It’s not so fun to have incessantly obvious questions thrown at you now, is it?”  Pooch trailed off, having the decency to look ashamed as Jessica glared at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, standing up and stretching.

Jensen’s eyes flickered between Pooch and Clay.  “We going?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jess intervened, at the same time, Clay shook his head.  “Cougar and Aisha have it.”

“The Pooch agrees with her,” the getaway driver piped up, tilting his head toward the fuming female Jensen.

“You can’t be serious?!” Jake stammered.

“You’re not going to let us go without taking you,” Clay explained, with a knowing glance towards Jess, “ _which_ clearly isn’t going to happen.  So just lay back down and get some sleep.”

“Claaaayyyy!” the hacker whined.

The team leader looked carefully at the pale, bruised hacker who was still having problems focusing.  He understood it was a matter of pride, but Jensen in his current state wasn’t going to be of much use even if he agreed to let him go.  “It’s not up for discussion.”

Jake turned his attention to his sister.  “Jess…”

She shook her head.  “Nope.”

“Pooch! ‘member when those kids stole Mojito?” he asked, referring to the Chihuahua bobblehead Pooch carried around with him.

The getaway driver shot Jessica another wary glance.  “Sorry man.  I’m not suicidal.”

Jensen looked so disheartened that Clay racked his brain to come up with a solution.  “If it makes you feel better, you can be on the team for the next person that tries to touch Cougar’s hat.”

The hacker thought for a split second.  “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly.

Jess nodded.  “Excellent.”  She turned to her brother.  “You, get some sleep.  4 am is gonna come awfully fast.”

Jensen looked like he wanted to speak but Jessica’s sharp stare eliminated the protest.

“Yesum.” Jake obediently lowered himself back to the couch.  The other three continued to watch as he shifted once, twice until he found a comfortable position.

“Stop staring,” he lazily lifted one hand and made a shooing motion.  “I’m not going…anywhere.”

“You better not,” Pooch spoke up.  As Jensen twitched one more time, Pooch went into great detail about what he was going to do to the hacker if he didn’t actually attempt some rest and relaxation for the next few days.

While he was doing so, Jess turned to Clay.  “You want some coffee?” she asked, already accepting the fact she wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

“Coffee’d be great,” he replied.  As she began walking toward the kitchen, Pooch interrupted his threat to politely ask for a cup as well.

Sometime in the middle of “glue your ass to a chair and hang it outside a 10-story office building” and “recon for a month”, Clay’s phone buzzed.

“It’s done,” Aisha announced over the heavy groans and mild cursing filtering through the line.

“You find his phone and wallet?”

“Wallet’s short a few bucks, but phone’s intact.”

Clay nodded—not that she could see—and slammed his phone closed.  “All taken care of.” 

A grim smile crossed Pooch’s face before he returned to his diatribe.

Jess returned a few minutes later with the entire pot and some graham crackers.  “It’s all we have for snacks,” she apologized, but, for the team who rarely had the luxury of regular meals, it wasn’t a problem. 

Caffeinated beverages in hand, they all settled around the couch, to monitor their favorite hacker while he slept.  To most ‘normal’ people, this might be considered odd—if not slightly creepy—but to this particular group, it was just one of the things you did for family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](usaonetwothree.tumblr.com)! My ask box is always open for discussion of fandom, fic or prompts!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be up soon!
> 
> ([Find me on Tumblr!](usaonetwothree.tumblr.com))


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